


menthol

by shirohyasha



Category: Uta no Prince-sama
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, PWP, a couple of the others show up too but ya know. this is a pwp, catboy masato
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:07:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22852969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shirohyasha/pseuds/shirohyasha
Summary: Cecil gets a cold, loses control of his magic, and gives Masato cat ears and a tail. Ren is fine with this.
Relationships: Hijirikawa Masato/Jinguuji Ren
Comments: 6
Kudos: 63





	menthol

**Author's Note:**

> IT'S STILL 22/2 (just) I DIDNT MISS CAT DAY
> 
> plot(??????????????) inspired by 3745HOUSE's fantastic gintama doujin 'like cat and dog' which i will not provide a link for but you should all check out

It starts when Cecil gets a cold.

Cecil getting a cold _shouldn’t_ be that big of a deal. Cecil is from a desert nation and is used to far hotter, drier temperatures than there are in Japan. It’s surprising enough that he isn’t sick more often.

However.

He sneezes heavily in the greenroom, and whimpers slightly. They’ve all been shoved into one together today, because of the ease of their costumes, so Masato hears him.

“Aijima, you’ve been feeling unwell for a while now,” he says, concerned. “I think you should take tomorrow off, and the rest of the day too if you’re not done yet.”

“I think you are right,” Cecil says, nasally. “I do not get ill very often, so when I do, it is always very hard for me to manage.”

“Here,” Masato says, carefully unpinning the ears from Cecil’s hair. “Are you done now? You should sit down and rest.”

“Alright,” Cecil agrees, easily enough.

Then he sneezes again.

There’s an enormous explosion of coloured lights. The room fills with colourful smoke, the aftermath of a totally silent fireworks display. Syo lets out an aborted scream and Natsuki shrieks with delight. When the room recovers, blinking and squinting, Tokiya notices first.

“Hijirikawa,” he says. “Did your ears change colour?”

Masato raises his hands to his head. He moves slowly at first, as though unsure what Tokiya’s referring to, but a moment later he grabs at his head and spins for the mirror.

The black cat-ear headband that had been carefully pinned to his head has changed to the same sapphire hue as his hair. The reason he’d jumped for the mirror is that they’re the only ears on his head.

“What,” he manages. “What.”

He grabs at the ears. Yanking on them sends two spikes of pain into his head. Shoving his hair to the side reveals two unnervingly smooth patches of skin where previously there had been ears.

_“What?”_

They discover on the way home that he also has a tail now. It’s the same blue as the ears.

“Make the joke, Jinguji, I dare you,” Masato hisses. Ren is laughing so hard it’s silent, the occasional wheeze of breath the only sound to be heard from him.

“Let me see! Let me see!” Natsuki cries. “Masato, you’re even cuter than Syo like this!”

“Hey!” Syo yells, but he’s not sure why he’s offended.

“I am really sorry, Masato,” Cecil says. His voice is even worse than it was earlier. “I do not think I should cast the counter-spell while I am so unstable.”

Masato grits his teeth. He’s half-sat, half crouched on the seat, leaning entirely on one thigh so the tail isn’t trapped. He’d yowled – _yowled –_ when he’d first sat down. “It’s not your fault,” he manages. “Jinguji, stop laughing.”

“No way,” Ren gasps. “This is the funniest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Aw, Ren,” Otoya says. “You should stop. Masa’s clearly upset.”

Being chastised by Otoya is enough to finally calm him down a little. Natsuki is still straining, desperate to see the tail.

Masato tries waving it. It moves. He’s not sure he likes that.

“Anyway,” Tokiya stresses. “What are we going to do until this goes away?”

Masato scowls. He’s wearing Syo’s hat. It doesn’t match his outfit at all, but it does cover the ears. The cat ears. The cat ears which were for a photoshoot, and are now apparently attached to his head for as long as Cecil is ill.

“I do not have any photoshoots coming up,” Masato says. “Tomorrow I have a couple of radio broadcasts and a television appearance.”

Cecil makes a pitiful noise. “I will recover as quickly as I can. Please can someone inform the agency that I will not be attending any of my jobs tomorrow.”

“Ren can do it,” Tokiya says. “Don’t complain. You seem to be enjoying the situation anyway.”

Ren raises his hands in defeat. “Guilty,” he admits easily. “This is hysterical.”

Masato snarls at him. It comes out as a weird hissing noise. The dim shadowy lights in the bus aren’t an obstacle to his vision and everyone smells very, very weird.

“I think he’s turning into an actual cat,” Syo says, leaning over to peer into his eyes. “His pupils have gone all funny.”

Otoya turns too, and Masato stares blankly at them both. “You’re right! They’re sort of almond-shaped now.” Otoya puts his hand on Masato’s head, on top of Syo’s hat. “Good kitty.”

“Otoya,” Tokiya sighs.

“Ittoki,” Masato says stiffly. “Please remove your hand.”

“You’d best get used to it, Hijirikawa,” Ren says, undisguised glee in his voice. “We’re almost there, and if you think anything’s gonna stop Shinomi petting you, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Masato wishes he’d been given claws as well, because then at least he could scratch Ren’s stupid eyes out.

Natsuki doesn’t let go of Masato until Tokiya tells him that Cecil needs carrying inside much more than Masato does.

“Everyone, make sure to wear flu masks when you go to see Cecil,” Masato says. “It won’t do for anyone else to get sick.”

Masato disappears into their room as soon as Natsuki is distracted, and locks the door. Then he calls Syo.

“Kurusu, may I borrow your hat collection?” he asks. “That should deal with the ears at least.”

“Sure,” Syo says. “I’ll bring some to you later. When. Uh.” His voice cuts off. “No I’m not talking to Hijirikawa!” he yells. “Sorry, uh, Ren.”

“Shinomiya is welcome to come too,” Masato says. “So long as he agrees to behave.”

They hang up and Masato starts rifling through his wardrobe. The tail, he quickly discovers, will fit down the legs of his baggiest pair of trousers. It’s right at the waistband of most pairs of trousers he owns.

“Low rise jeans,” Ren drawls from where he’s sprawled out on his bed, only occasionally looking up at Masato to snigger. “Wear a long jacket and wrap it round your waist or something.”

Masato grinds his teeth. “I don’t own any low-rise jeans.”

“Your wardrobe is pretty embarrassing,” Ren agrees. “Mine should fit you.”

“Thank you,” Masato grits out. Ren’s wardrobe is a lot bigger than Masato’s, and it’s also atrocious. Masato finds a neon crop top, a leopard print leather jacket, and two pairs of colourful leggings before he finds even a normal pair of jeans.

“That’s Bukky’s fault,” Ren says when Masato holds the crop top up. He refuses to elaborate any further.

All of his clothes smell very, very strongly of him. Masato had known what Ren smelled like, cologne over his natural scent, but these clothes are practically drenched in it. It’s not unpleasant, being cocooned in Ren’s smell, but it’s also not something Masato wants to deal with during work.

“I think it’s affected my sense of smell too,” he says. Ren grimaces on the bed.

“Ew,” he says. “That’s gross.”

“It’s not my fault!” Masato snaps. “It could have happened to any of us.”

Ren shudders. “Okay, you’re right. Thank you, oh Lord Hijirikawa, for taking the bullet for us all.”

Masato throws a particularly hideous shirt at Ren and scowls. “Would it kill you to clear out your wardrobe every so often?” he asks. “You’ve had that shirt since you were fourteen.”

Ren groans. “Shut up,” he says. “I can find everything in there. I bet you’re messing up the system.”

“There is no system!” Masato is in the middle of saying, when there’s a knock at the door.

“Hijirikawa,” Syo calls. “Natsuki’s here, but he said he’d behave.”

Ren brightens up. “Shinomi! Shorty!” he says. Masato opens the door. Syo has two hatboxes in his arms, and Natsuki is hidden behind him, peeking around him to stare at Masato’s ears. The effect is rather comical, given Natsuki’s thirty-odd centimetres on Syo, but Masato appreciates the effort.

“I brought you a couple,” Syo says. “You can probably match – wait, why are you in Ren’s wardrobe?”

“I am looking for a better pair of trousers to fit over the tail,” he grits out. “Thank you, Kurusu.”

“No problem,” Syo says, and sets the boxes on the sofa. Natsuki is still staring.

“Shinomiya,” Masato sighs. “Just. Get it over with.”

Natsuki bounds over to him, and reaches out a large, warm hand. It lands on Masato’s head, scratching gently behind his ears. It feels… nice.

It feels _nice_.

Masato’s face heats up. He’s really going to turn into a cat if Cecil doesn’t hurry up and get better soon. Natsuki laughs, bright and delighted.

“Masato, you’re purring!” he exclaims.

“I am not!” Masato denies, but abruptly realises that he _is_.

“So cute,” Natsuki breathes.

“Your tail’s waving,” Ren offers, deadpan. Syo has a hand pressed to his mouth.

“Hijirikawa,” he says. “Hijirikawa, I hate to side with Natsuki, but you’re kind of a cute cat.”

Later, Masato tries to have a shower.

It’s horrible.

He turns it on, but as soon as he sticks a hand under the spray to test the temperature he yowls and snatches his hand back. He tries three more times, but the sensation is horrible, a thousand tiny needles stinging his hand. He eventually fills the sink and has a sponge bath, which is far more pleasant than it otherwise would be. He valiantly defeats the urge to lick himself.

At least he’s clean. Then he curls up on their sofa, underneath the blanket he keeps on his bed, and falls asleep. He wakes up when Ren comes out of the bathroom, hair dripping wet and carrying a towel.

“How are you doing?” Ren asks, and wraps his head in the towel. “Do you feel any different?”

“Everything looks strange,” Masato says. “I can see in the shadows, and everything smells strong.”

Something smells _good,_ actually. Masato sniffs, twitching. Something smells really good, deep and rich and pleasant. Before he realises what he’s doing he’s sat up, squinting at the bathroom. “Did you – oh.”

“Did I what?” Ren begins to ask, when Masato’s arms wrap around his waist. “Hijirikawa!”

“Smells good,” Masato sighs, nuzzling up into Ren’s neck. The skin is soft, freshly shaven and moisturised, and he pushes his nose into the hollow behind Ren’s ear and breathes. “Smells really good.”

“Yeah?” Ren asks, cautious, and drops the towel. “Hijirikawa, you’re really close.”

“It’s alright, isn’t it?” Masato asks. He doesn’t want to pry himself away from Ren. He _could,_ absolutely, but Ren is so warm and his skin is so soft and he smells so good. “Aren’t you alright?”

“Am I – yes, _I’m_ alright,” Ren manages. He sounds like he needs something to drink. “Are you? Are you reacting to something?”

“I think so,” Masato gasps. “Ren,” he whines. “Ren, touch me.”

Ren’s hands immediately go to Masato’s waist, glued to him through the fabric. “Are you sure, Masato?” he asks. “You’re not really yourself right now.”

Masato sways, leans into Ren heavily. He’s not himself, but it only feels a little different to the few times he’s been drunk and it’s wonderful, a heady feeling, so warm and clean and safe.

He grinds into Ren through his robe. Ren is hard too, as hard as he is. “Don’t you want to?”

“Yes,” Ren gets out. “Yes, yes, oh, do that again.” Ren’s hands slip lower, settle on Masato’s ass and pull them together until Masato’s eyes are fluttering and he’s dizzy with it.

“Your bed is closer,” Masato says. “And you have the supplies.”

Ren all but throws him to the bed, leans over him and Masato reaches up and grabs at whatever he can – one fist in Ren’s hair, one hand slapped to the back of his neck – and drags him down to kiss him.

“I like doing this,” Masato gasps into his mouth, and doesn’t want to hear Ren say anything different so he bites his lip and reaches down to grab his cock. Ren laughs, delighted, and grinds down into his hand.

“You’re aggressive like this,” he says, rolls over to the drawer they’d managed to smuggle lube and condoms into. “You’re really not yourself.”

“Shut up,” Masato snaps, and throws a leg over him, grinds down into him hard enough that Ren can’t catch the moan.

He’s shoving his face back into Ren’s neck even as he speaks, the scent dizzying, intoxicating. He could stay like this forever.

Ren responds by unknotting Masato’s robes and sliding them off his shoulders, apparently entranced by the skin he’s revealing. Masato preens under his gaze, stretching his arms and arching his back.

They’ve never talked about where they stand, they’ve never discussed this beyond assuring the other that they want to have sex _right now_. Masato, somewhere in the indistinct haze of his mind, has wanted to talk about it. But it’s definitely not the right time, so he shrugs the robe off all the way and reaches out for the clear tube in Ren’s hand.

Ren slides a hand down his back, takes the tail protruding from the base of his spine in hand and tugs on it, gently. Masato feels it all the way up his spine, not unpleasant exactly, but bizarre.

“Feels weird,” he gasps. Ren strokes along his back, exactly how you’d pet a cat, and Masato arches away from it and into him. “Stop – ngh – stop doing that.”

“And do what, exactly?” Ren asks. He’s grinning. “How’s this?”

He rolls them over, and Masato shoves a pillow out of the way and reaches up to feel up his chest, down his stomach. Ren’s chest is smooth, lightly muscled. He drops his hand to wrap around Ren’s cock and tugs, lightly.

“Fuck me,” he breathes, and Ren gapes.

Masato falls back to the mattress. “What?” he asks, trying not to look upset.

“Masato,” Ren manages a few moments later. “Masato, that was the dirtiest thing you’ve ever said.”

Masato looks up at him, suspicion melting into embarrassment. “Hurry up,” he mutters.

“Hey,” Ren says, and leans in to kiss him. “If I didn’t want to do this, I wouldn’t.”

Ren kisses him again, slower this time, deeper, tongue sliding into his mouth and curling against his own, soft and wet and careful. He reaches up to cup Masato’s face with one hand, holds himself up with the other.

Masato flicks open the cap of the lube with one hand, keeps the other tangled in Ren’s hair. Ren pulls back a moment later, pupils blown.

“You’re serious,” he says. Masato scowls.

“Would I have said something so crude if I wasn’t?” he snaps, and pulls his fingers from Ren’s hair. “If you’re not going to help, I’ll do it.”

Ren leans back, eyes gleaming. “That’s not really an incentive for me to help you,” he points out, and scratches his fingers into the fur-hair behind Masato’s pointed ears. Masato can’t help but chase his hand, despite how it makes Ren’s face light up with amusement.

“Shut up,” Masato mutters. He squeezes the lube onto his fingers, not really sure how much he needs, but deciding to err on the side of caution. He rubs it into his hands, and reaches down.

The initial breach is weird, more than anything. It doesn’t hurt, because he’s slid barely the tip of his index finger in, but it’s very noticeable.

“Oh.” Ren’s eyes are fixed on the point his hand meets his ass, and he doesn’t seem to have realised that he gasped. Masato frowns a little and slides the finger in a little further. Uncomfortable perhaps, and unusual, but not painful yet.

He pushes the finger in further, and wraps his other hand around his cock. He’s been turned on since Ren walked out of the bathroom smelling of something impossibly intoxicating and the hand on his cock is barely a relief at this point, but it does help distract him.

“Masa,” Ren breathes, hands fluttering everywhere, as though he doesn’t know where to touch. “Masa, oh.”

He crooks his finger, a little, and it aches a little but mostly it just feels odd, neither painful nor pleasurable. Well, he can manage that. The thought of having Ren inside him is enough to make his mouth water and he definitely wants that, even if it only feels weird and not good.

He teases at himself with his middle finger, runs it around his rim. This feels better, teasing and fluttery and not nearly enough, but better.

“Masato,” Ren breathes. “Masato, you.”

He doesn’t seem to know what to say and Masato ignores him, sighs as he slides the tip of his second finger into himself. This aches more sharply, but he’d been expecting that and it doesn’t feel bad as such, just odd. Pain in the best kind of way, the way his legs ache after a run or his chest aches after a live.

And oh, the finger slides in so easily and he feels so _full._ He gasps all of a sudden, mouth fluttering open and he spreads his legs a little wider, tries to push them in a little further.

“Masato,” Ren says again, catches his wrist and tugs gently. “Masato, let me, please, please let me try, Masato.”

His eyes are fever-bright, his cheeks are flushed and he looks more turned on than Masato has seen him before. He wants to tease, say something acerbic, maybe spread his legs again and tease that way, but he finds himself sliding his fingers out of himself – empty, he’s empty and he wants something, he wants _Ren_ – and nodding.

“Okay,” he manages. “Be – slow.”

“Okay,” Ren breathes. “Okay, slow.”

He slips a finger into Masato. It’s not noticeably thicker than Masato’s own but the angle is different and he can reach further, and Masato gasps as Ren pushes into him.

“Oh,” Masato manages. He sounds wrecked even to his own ears. His own, pointed, fuzzy ears.

“More?” Ren asks. “You had – two, you had two. Can I –”

“ _Yes_ ,” Masato hisses. “Yes, Ren, more.”

Ren doesn’t tease with the second finger, not like Masato had. He slides it in along the first one, all in one go and Masato yelps, reaches up to cover his mouth before he can make another sound like that.

Ren gives him a moment, pulls them out a little, spreads them slowly. Masato doesn’t know how to feel. This hasn’t stopped feeling weird yet, but now that he’s almost used to it he wants more, as much as Ren can give him.

“Enough,” he gasps. “Enough, Ren.”

“Are you sure?” Ren asks, though his eyes keep darting down, where Masato’s cock is lying neglected and beneath that –

“Of course I’m sure,” Masato hisses. “Are you sure?”

That snaps him out of it. “Are you really asking me that?” Ren asks. “Do you have any idea how good you look right now?”

“How could I know what I look like?” Masato asks him, as sharply as he can manage. When Ren leans over he gets a waft of whatever cursed thing was on his neck that started all of this off, and he’s dizzy again. “Ren. Ren, hurry up.”

“Needy kitten,” Ren pants. “I’m – getting there, this is harder than it looks.”

“Who are you calling kitten?” Masato grinds out. He’s empty, so empty without Ren inside him and he wants so much, so badly. “Hurry up before I find something else.”

Ren’s eyes glitter even as his hands shake. “I would watch that,” he says. Masato sits up as best he can and grabs for the lube again, squirting out far too much into his palm and wrapping his hand around Ren’s dick.

“You’re incorrigible,” Masato hisses. “What are you, some kind of voyeur?”

Ren laughs, broken with delighted moans. “Only for you,” he promises, and knocks Masato flat to the bed, looming over him. “Lift your legs.”

Masato wraps his legs around Ren’s waist and waits as patiently as he can manage for Ren to line himself up with Masato, and press into him slowly.

It’s weird. It’s so weird and Ren is so hot, and he’s heavy and one of his legs is bent at a strange angle and he’s so full, Ren is _inside him_.

Ren shakes atop him. Masato shifts, a little, rocks up into him and hisses when it hurts, does it again because it feels good too and because it makes Ren gasp, pretty little moans escaping his pretty red mouth.

“Masato,” Ren gasps. “Masato, don’t – if you – I’m gonna – feels good.”

He’s babbling, Masato realises hazily, through the smell of his neck, his jaw, all up his throat. Masato rubs a cheek against one of Ren’s and sighs. Ren’s breath is hot against his neck.

“Ren,” he says, and that can’t be him, so desperate and wanton, but it is him and he gasps again. “Ren, will you just _move_ already?”

Ren rocks back into him, buries his face in Masato’s neck, pulls back a little. “Yeah,” he pants. “Yeah, I can do that.”

He slides out and oh, that’s weird too, weird and empty and good too, dragging against all the right places, the sensitive skin he’d teased at before. This is more intense, this is way more intense and then Ren is fucking him, properly, hips snapping into him and Masato thinks he might have to scream.

He rolls his hips, clenches down and Ren shudders as he pushes forwards, hitches Masato’s thighs up higher so his ankles are crossed behind his back. He’s clumsy at first, jerking forwards, and Masato groans with every movement and digs his nails into Ren’s back, hissing.

“Keep going,” Masato pants. “Don’t stop.”

Ren gets a hand up and fists it in his hair, no, he’s grabbing just behind an ear and it hurts but it’s good too, the way Ren’s eyes will roll back in his head when Masato gets a handful of his hair. Masato doesn’t protest, lets Ren yank his hair as he moves.

“Masato,” Ren breathes. “Masato, Masato.”

“Ren,” he moans. He arches off the bed as he comes, presses himself against Ren, clutches at him. Ren shudders through orgasm too, set off by Masato clenching down around him.

They collapse together, Ren falling to lie by Masato’s side and rolling into him, tangling them together in a mess of sweaty limbs. Masato buries his face in Ren’s neck and Ren huffs a breathless laugh.

“Must have been something in my cologne,” he manages.

Masato hums, not really paying attention. Ren catches his tail in his hand and Masato swishes it, wriggles it against him.

“Can you feel that?” Ren asks.

“Yes,” says Masato. “It’s very odd.”

It is, having a new appendage. The ears are unusual too – not painful or even uncomfortable really, just very noticeable. Ren pets his hand through Masato’s hair, limp and exhausted and gentle. Masato can feel himself purring again.

“You think we can ask Cesshi to leave them for a few days?” Ren asks, grinning lopsidedly. Masato swats at him.

“You’re a nuisance,” he says, and yawns. “I hope Aijima recovers soon.”

“Aw, he’ll be fine,” Ren says. “You think you’ll let me do this again?”

He sounds – nervous, almost. Not exactly. Close enough.

“Depends,” Masato says. “Will you allow me the same?”

Ren grins, going limp. “I think that can be arranged,” he says.

**Author's Note:**

> nyah..... nyah
> 
> there was menthol in ren's aftershave


End file.
